The Real Hero
by SnarkyMuffins
Summary: Bruce didn't deserve to die being pushed off the top of the building. Tony thought Bruce deserved to go down in history as someone great. As someone who died giving his life, protecting others, being the hero Tony knew he was. (Implied future Science Boyfriends...oh and angst)


**Warnings: Major Character Death, swearing, possible OOCness**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters seen here and I never :,( will**

**Notes: So...another sad story which is basically in the same "series" if you will as 'The Middle Of A Song'. It's like all the avengers get their chance to shine (in death...). Also, this is unbetaed, and I was going to edit but I just wanted to post it before I forgot about it. I'll edit it ASAP for typos. Technically it's Bruce/Tony friendship, but it hints at Science Boyfriends (!) near the end. However if that isn't your thing you don't have to read it like that. Enjoy and R&R!**

Shocked looks of mixed feelings was exchanged between the two scientists, Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, the day they found a represent to the Hulk. Bruce had been working on a theory periodically, between helping Tony and his SHIELD research on possible threats (which he thought was a mundane way to use his talents, but it was, nevertheless, mandatory for him to do), that could hold the key for suppressing, not eliminating, the Hulk. Tony, while not as enthusiastic about the prospect of leaving his Science Bro without protection from his giant green friend, agreed to help when he could.

Together, both brilliant minds went over Bruce's blood work (which they kept in a very private and protected locations, just for the record) and eventually found a sort of serum that would, essentially, short-circuit Bruce's adrenal glands. This would keep the Hulk from making an appearance at an inconvenient time, assuming Bruce had the injections ready or had taken them at some point in time before said accident. Of course, the injection would wear off eventually, both Tony and Bruce estimated at about one day the body would rid itself of the serum, and Bruce would have to take another one to keep from transforming.

They made sure to keep everything very hush-hush, even from the rest of the Avengers. If this slipper, SHIELD would be all over it, making weapons made from the serum in day's time. Not to mention that the army would, no doubt, find a way to get their greedy hands on it and Tony, while confident that he could keep Bruce safe in the Stark Tower and in his custody, would prefer not to get into a whole big battle over it.

However, the whole research process had taken longer than Bruce expected for a positive result, so when they added the unnamed serum they had invented to a portion of Bruce's irradiated blood, they were both speechless when the green cells faded almost completely.

Tony hadn't been as thrilled as Bruce, convinced that his Bro would become addicted to the injection (much like heroine or so other intravenous drug), and refused to high-five him by childishly crossing his arms. Bruce hadn't been deterred however. This was nearly as good as a cure, albeit he had to inject himself with a needle each day to cease turning into the Hulk when he was angered.

"I know you smoke weed, Bruce, but do you seriously have to inject yourself with a drug too?" Tony whined from the entryway. Bruce had been marveling over their creation for the better part of an hour and Tony had gotten bored so he went to the kitchen and made himself (surprisingly) a sandwich.

Bruce scowled, but Tony could tell if was half-hearted. "I only smoked it a couple of times, Tony, and this is hardly an addictive drug. It's not like nicotine or anything." The billionaire snorted.

"People get addicted to _bacon_, Banner. Don't try to pull the wool over my eyes and convince me that there's no way you could become addicted to this. I'm a genius, remember?" He tapped his temple for emphasis. He sauntered forward a few steps and popped some dry blueberries out of his bag into his mouth. "Not to mention the side effects that we don't know of yet. Who knows, maybe you'll turn into a giant, fat blueberry after you take it."

"I'm more worried about _you_ turning into a giant, fat blueberry." Bruce said as he gestured at the bag Tony was holding. "What is that, like your fifth one today?"

"Excuse me Mister I'm-5-foot-8-and-I-only-weigh-128-pounds. That's three pounds less than Natasha, you know." Tony added thoughtfully. Bruce looked down at himself. He _was_ skinny as Hell, but it was hard to tell just how skinny he was through the too-big clothes he insisted on wearing. His argument was if people would rather see the Hulk completely naked or see him wear properly fitting garments. The vote had been unanimous: no one wanted to see the Hulk completely naked.

Bruce didn't dignify that with an answer and instead went back to looking at the serum. Just one injection, laying on the counter, a murky gray color like melted adamantium. He wanted so back to rolled up his purple sleeve and slip the needle into his elbow joint, and just _see _if he could yell, speak his mind, without the probability of losing control and morphing into a rage monster. The allure of being able to lose himself drew his fingers to the syringe. He knew he couldn't use it now though, not without further studies, and certainly not before jotting down the formula to make the serum and recreating it at least half a dozen times.

Sighing, he turned back to Tony, blinking the image of himself being flustered and totally _pissed off_, but not transforming. The image of him being angry in a totally human way, in a way that didn't have the possibility of him destroying a city.

"We need to do more tests. Find out the side-effects, the exact formula, everything. Then I guess we can test it out." Bruce suppressed an unprofessional, giddy grin. He rolled up his sleeves and he and Tony set to work on analyzing the represent they created.

A few days later the represent had been analyzed the hell out of. Several doses had been made and were currently residing in the refrigeration unit of Tony Stark's basement laboratory that SHIELD had no idea even existed. Both he and Bruce were confident that their research and the represent was safe.

Bruce had taken the injection a few times, and he said it felt like the constant pressure of the Hulk in the back of his mind damn near vanished. He started doing word problems and riddles in the daily newspaper he insisted Tony get, and got frustrated over them (He had 6 in science and math, not English). He allowed himself to throw down the newspaper and storm around the house all morning without being on the verge of changing. He had nightmares that didn't result in him stumbling his way blindly in the middle of the night to get to the panic room before he ripped the tower apart. He felt _human_.

Of course, Tony had this sense of growing dread in his stomach. No one ever called him paranoid really (although he did have an anxiety and panic disorder from his time spent in the Middle East), but this _feeling_…this feeling that this thing Bruce was rejoicing over was not something to be celebrated. He felt like going down to the lab in the middle of the night and burning all of the research and injections they had, but he knew he couldn't. Not while Bruce seemed so _happy. _All smiles and doing little dances around the lab as he inspected a DNA strand, or humming 'Heat of the Moment' while he fried eggs in the morning for breakfast and turning up 'ACDC' (on request from Tony, of course) while he grilled up some fancy chicken dish for dinner.

Tony felt dirty even considering burning the injections. It would be like taking a lollipop from a baby that wasn't even aware of your cruel intentions until he went for another lick. And, despite all of his snide jokes and rude comments, he couldn't bring himself to do that to a friend. To a friend that was just starting to work things out and feel comfortable enough in his own skin to do fucking _word puzzles_ for Christ's sake!

Not to mention the other Avengers were overly happy for Bruce. Natasha, while Tony was suspicious was just happy because the ever-present threat of the Hulk was gone, invited him to the gym so she could teach him self-defense. Steve and Bruce went on long jogs through New York to try and build up Bruce's muscle mass and stamina. Since the doctor no longer was under the threat of his heart rate getting too fast, he could jog for as long as he wanted. Clint and Bruce hung out more, and exchanged mindless quips. They even had movie nights. Thor, who visited Earth occasionally to see his fellow Avengers and catch a few with Jane, had eating contests with Bruce. This was more for the physic's sake. Everyone knew he was way to skinny.

And nothing changed between Tony and Bruce. They still hung out in the lab together, doing science and playfully debating the best way to go about analyzing some information, except Bruce was faster to voice his opinion and quicker to defend it.. He was relaxed and open, especially in the lab which Tony knew was his home.

Despite all this though, Tony still missed the old Bruce. The socially awkward, I-might-snap-at-any-moment-and-lynch-you Bruce that he befriended aboard the Helicarrier all those months ago. He missed the quiet, quirky, quaint humor Bruce armed himself with, and even the baggy clothes that billowed around him when he walked down the hall at a brisk pace.

This was pre-Hulk Bruce. Bruce with still all the trauma he ever had, all the pain, but without that constant worry weighing him down. This was the Bruce people at Harvard knew, and General Ross and Betty Ross before the incident. This was the Bruce that exchanged data with his coworkers at the military lab, working to develop the same serum that created Captain America. This wasn't Tony's Bruce. This was some other Bruce Tony hardly recognized.

Although he didn't let it show, Tony felt guilty for thinking like this. Bruce deserved to be happy and he was happy _before_ the Hulk, but it still didn't seem like the same person, clad in a lab coat, standing beside him as they chatted about science. He seemed…less awesome, Tony concluded. Fun and happy, but less the Bruce Banner he came to love and adore being around.

Tony wanted to tell Bruce all these things, but he never got the chance.

Bruce had just shot himself up with some more of that blasted serum Tony grew to despise when the ground shook. Tony went to the large window in the back of the lab and looked out. What looked like high advanced robots were zooming through the air on hovercrafts, and swarmed the ground like an ant army.

"Shit." Tony swore as he grabbed Bruce's sleeve. Together they rushed out of the lab. Alarms were going off and red flashes blinked. Natasha was running side by side with Clint, who already had an arrow drawn. "The fuck's going on?" Tony snatched Clint's arm.

"Looks like some maniac created his own robotic empire that he is now using against us. What's new?" The archer explained breathlessly before taking off after Natasha. The ground shook again, which spurred Tony back into action. Just his luck.

"How about next time you decided not to be a complete _moron_," Tony spat, "And forget about the formula. We could kind of use the Hulk right now." As if confirming his point, a bullet shattered the glass in a nearby window and tore by their heads. Tony looked at Bruce one last time before taking off for his suit. He'd be okay, the Hulk was still _there_, just it took a lot more for the big guy to show his face. But if something happened to Bruce, he'd still show up. Right. Right?

Tony didn't have to mull it over, no time to go into statistics or rethink the exact formula or effect of the injection. His mind was focused on getting to his suit and neutralizing the threat. JARVIS, for some reason, didn't seem to be responding. He'd kill those sorry sons of bitches if they did anything to his AI.

He got to the room where he kept his suit and quickly got into his MARK V. He was launching himself into the sky, full thrusters, before he knew it. The robots seemed easy enough to take down, one blast and they were gone, but there were a shit ton of them. Whoever created these pests had definitely taken into account their vulnerability. It was like ants; individually they were nothing but as a giant hoard they were almost impossible to get rid of.

So, Tony set about the rather tedious and mundane work of blasting these little silver dolls off of their three foot long hovercraft, and then destroying the craft.

From his place in the air, he could see Steve, adorned in his spangled uniform, and Natasha and Clint running behind him. They all quickly took care of the ground units. Thor, luckily visiting Earth, was on a rooftop, knocking robots left and right with Mjolnir.

Tony blasted a robot that got within touching range of him. The blue behind the silver mask of the robot flickered briefly before turning black. The robot slid off the side of its hovercraft (which Tony promptly dispatched) and crashed into the ground. He zoomed over the roof of Stark Tower, surveying the damage done so far to the city. Nothing seemed out of order, besides the fact that cars were abandoned up and down the roads and hostile robots were closing in from every side.

Tony glanced down at the sound of a door closing. Bruce was standing on the roof of Stark Tower, the wind buffering his form fitting clothes. A look akin to guilt was shining in his eyes.

"Too bad you couldn't come to work today," Tony fired at a robot. Bruce looked down and rubbed his elbow sheepishly.

"Tony, you have to understand that I-" Iron Man lifted a hand to stop him.

"Yeah, darling, I get it. You're a victim." He said bitterly. Bruce swallowed thickly and shuffled his feet.

"You just don't understand what is was _like_, Tony. I felt like I was walking on eggshells, everything I did. I had a _life_, a girl I wanted to propose to, and then," –Bruce gestured at himself- "this happened. You have a magnet if your chest that keeps you alive, but you didn't have to give up _everything you had_. You got to keep Pepper, and you're a _hero_, Tony. Me, I'm a weapon with a little bit higher than average intelligence. Something to be exploited. " Tony shook his head and lowered himself to land on the roof of the tower next to the scientist. He popped up his face plate.

"You don't think we understand? I hate to make a point here, Banner, but the Capsicle kind of lost a hell of a lot more than you did. And what about me? I lost my ability to live without being hooked to this chunk of metal and wires in my chest. God knows about Natasha and Clint. You aren't the only one who's made sacrifices. You're right, Banner, I _don't_ know what you've been through, or what you've seen, but you don't know what we've seen either. So take off your skirt and high heels and man the hell up." Tony jabbed a finger at his chest, light brown eyes burning holes in Bruce's. The doctor was uncertain how to respond.

He'd never have to.

It was probably an accident, and then again it probably wasn't. They had been standing almost dangerously close to the edge of the building, but both of them had been so wrapped up in their argument they didn't see the hovercraft and robot coming. As the hovercraft ripped between them, throwing Tony backwards and slamming into Bruce, the world almost seemed to slow.

Tony, even with his suit, felt the breath get knocked out of his lungs as his back thudded against the roof of the Tower. His vision momentarily checked out, causing orange bursts to appear behind his eyes. His face plate had apparently been knocked free from the blow and was lying somewhere across the roof. Panting, he stumbled to his feet, an ache forming in his lower back which absorbed most of the blow.

It took him about thirty seconds to realize that he was alone on the roof. It took him thirty more to realize what happened. "Bruce!" He yelled as he flung himself over to the edge of the Tower. The fall was dizzying, no one could survive it; except Bruce. Except Bruce because as soon as his body made contact with the tar, the Hulk would rip his way from the physicist's chest, because that's what the Hulk was supposed to do; protect Bruce.

But there wasn't any green rage monster storming around the streets of New York, throwing cars and smashing holes into office buildings. No earsplitting roars that shook the ground rang through the sky. In fact, New York was pretty silent, at least right in this moment.

Tony's brain seemed to falter, as did his heart. Time stood still.

Then the world started spinning again. The screams of civilians met his ears, and the zoom of robotic hovercrafts. He didn't care, not right in this moment. He threw himself over the edge, using his thrusters to control his descent. All the while helpless pleas left his lips, and his heart hammer painfully in his chest.

He landed roughly, stumbling to keep his balance. Tony swung his head around, searching for his friend, praying he didn't see the scientist's scrawny form sprawled out in a pool of his own blood.

But not all prayers came true.

When Tony caught sight of that mop of curly brown hair, and that face paler than snow, against his wishes an anguished cry ripped out of his throat. No one was around to hear it.

He stumbled forward, falling to his knees beside Bruce. Those brown eyes Tony loved so much were glassy and faded, staring somewhere above Tony's head. A crimson pool was forming around those brown curls, staining the tips red. Tony felt his chest ache, not just from the arc reactor but from the grief he was struggling to process. He was afraid to touch Bruce, afraid to hurt him, afraid to just _wake him up_. Because he just sleeping, Tony knew. Because Bruce sometimes slept at the most inconvenient of times. And because he was Bruce he could get away with it.

Tony swallowed the lump forming in his throat as his fingers hovered over Bruce's still body, like a butterfly looking for a place to land. Sobs racketed Tony's body as he struggled to hold them in. He'd dealt with this before, hiding his emotions. He could do it now. He _could do it now_. Except, the tears fell anyways.

"Bruce…" Tony asked hesitantly, his hands finally coming to rest on the scientist's arm. He wished he wasn't wearing his suit right now, he wished he could feel Bruce's body heat, the heat that still _had_ to be there. He stared at his Science Bro's face a little longer, and those _eyes_. Devoid, empty, and utterly and completely _dead_.

Tony bit his lower lip as his fingers tightened in Bruce's sleeve. Dead. He was dead. Bruce fucking Banner was dead.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." He blabbed, shaking. His vision blurred with tears. "Why couldn't you just be asleep?" Tony moaned, a tear dribbling out of the corner of his eye. "I mean, look at me. I'm being such a girl right now." His hand shook as he wiped a tear away from his eye.

"It sucks," He let out a bitter laugh, "when you know you need to let go, but can't because you're still waiting for the impossible to happen." He closed his eyes, eyelashes damp. A shuttering breath made its way out of his lungs. "I need you to wake up now. Please. We still have…alien ass to kick and drunk science to do. I'm done pretending, Bruce. I think you need to wake up now."

Tony fumbled with Bruce's shirt. "You always were a stubborn bastard, weren't you? You cannot imagine how much I hate myself. I was selfish. You were _happy_, for the first time in what, a decade? And I was selfish because I was scared." Tony glanced down, fighting hysteria. "I was scared that my best friend was going to become a stranger." He breathed out slowly.

"And I, uh, I think I'm afraid to be happy, because whenever I get too happy, something bad always happens. Something that usually goes a little like this, actually. I'm so sorry, Bruce. I never…I never got to tell you something." Tony looked down at his hands. "I read something, somewhere that said 'Don't wait to tell someone how much you love, how much you care, because when they're gone, no matter how loud you shout or cry they won't hear you anymore.' I really wished I was brave enough to tell you that I loved you.

"And I wish I got a chance to tell you that you're right; I'm never going to understand. I should have tried. I know why you took the injection, Bruce, and to you it was like getting your braces off or something…just fixing a flaw. But to me…to me it felt like you were destroying a part of yourself because you didn't think it was beautiful, and you didn't think it was good enough, but _I_ thought it was just as amazing as the rest of you. And you don't know how much you broke my heart when you took it every day, when you were so adamant on destroying that part of yourself.

"I didn't want you to ever think that a part of you wasn't perfect, because to me _all_ of you was perfect and beautiful and amazing. But now," –Tony gripped Bruce's hand, resting his chin on it- "I don't know how I'm ever going to get over you. I know that at some point you have to realize some people can stay in your heart, but not in your life…but Bruce it's going to be so hard to forget someone who gave me so much to remember." His eyes stung from tears, his throat burned, his chest ached. His legs shook as he peeled himself off the ground. He felt like vomiting at the sight of his best friend, someone who could've been more than that, laying prone on this cold, hard ground with disaster and destruction all around.

Tony could remember the last words he said to him, and the hurt in Bruce's eyes, as well as shock. Tony could remember the thundering anger he felt at Bruce, but he could never tell himself, nor the scientist _why_ he got so angry. But now, he had nothing to lose. He spent so _long_ hiding his emotions behind every quip, every retort, every insult, and for what? So he could lose his _best fucking friend_ in such an anticlimactic way?

Bruce didn't get the bang Tony secretly knew he wanted, or the gradual aging process Tony knew he deserved. When he would lay Bruce in the ground, he'd remember that this amazing person used to be the Hulk, but his death was so unbefitting. So sudden and so unexpected, and that made it all the worse. Bruce didn't deserve to die being pushed off the top of the building. Tony thought Bruce deserved to go down in history as someone great. As someone who died giving his life, protecting others, being a _hero_ Tony knew he was.

Life's greatest lie was that heroes were not perfect. They made mistakes. They cried and screamed and fought. Tony knew Bruce was not perfect, at least not in the conventional way, and that is what made him a hero. It was the fact that he scalded his way, against all odds, to the top of the mountain where he found grudging respect waiting. After being hunted down like an animal, and abused since he was just a child, he still made something good, something _great_ out of himself.

Something Tony never did.

Tony was not a hero. He would not lie down on the wire and let the other guy crawl over him. He was not selfless. He didn't always have the moral and ethical battles that Steve grappled with. He did not have the overwhelming and sometimes self-destructive drive to save others like Bruce did. His mentality wasn't one for all and all for one.

Bruce had called him the hero. Bruce had called _him_ the hero.

Bruce had been the hero.


End file.
